Title: Devil Valentine
Author: Strangene ()
Pairing: Dante/Albert Wesker, implied Wesker/Excella, Dante/various
Warnings: pre-slash, language, masturbation. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry and Resident Evil.
Lyrics by: Finger Eleven
A/N: This story takes place after DMC 2 and during the events of Resident Evil 5 (beware of likely spoilers). It is written as a birthday present for my friend Sandra. Happy birthday, dear heart!
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Well, I'm not paralyzed
But I seem to be struck by you
I want tot make you move
Because you're standing still
And if your body matches
What your eyes can do
You'll probably move right through
Me on my way to you!
It is always hot in Africa, even in February, which is supposed to be the coldest time of the year. On February 14, the heat was unbearable. It was like Hell on the Earth, literally. Weird creatures appeared from nowhere and local people all went insane. They were possessed, if you pose it this way. I think, they all were just sick, like in that Rodriguez's movie, what's the name? Planet Terror or something.
On February 14, I found my true love.
I had no sleep the night before and was wandering around the village. I looked into the windows; it was strange to see the villagers sleeping peacefully in their beds. I felt that something would happen, but was not sure what exactly. Maybe, something good and maybe something bad. You never know.
Wandering around the village I met local Marie Laveau and let her read the lines on the palm of my hand.
"You're a monster", she said tracing the lines with her index finger. Her long nails were painted crimson. I smiled at her. Oh, how many times I heard that!
"You're a monster", she repeated. "A monster with a broken heart. Don't be sad, monster. Your love is on the way".
Saying this, she suddenly started to tremble and white foam appeared on her lips. I walked away. She would be okay, I knew that.
Her words dropped a seed of hope in my heart. I went to my cabin and slept until dawn, dreaming of gentle voice whispering love in my ears and delicate hands touching my body, I'm not sure. That could be strong arms holding me. When I woke up, it had already started.
Panic. Fear. Anger. Heat. Love. I could smell it in the air.
It is Valentine's Day, and my white-in-another-life tank top is stained with sweat and blood. I hack my way through the hordes of monstrous creatures, which used to be humans. I slash and cut their flesh, rip off limbs and the wave of pure ecstasy washes my body. Twin machetes fit perfectly in my grip, reminding of twin swords I used to have in my possession. I feel droplets of blood on my face, I taste the agony of my enemies, I dance, I laugh. I feel alive.
A stake thrusts into my shoulder right under the collarbone, and I scream more in surprise than in pain. One of them managed to hit me by chance. I growl and pull the thing out of me. One, two, three – and a poor fuck rests in pieces on the ground. Hack-slash-hack-slash-hack-slash! However, my shoulder hurts. I need some rest. I leap onto the roof of the nearest building, leaving the monster crowd behind.
While my wound is healing, I observe the neighborhood from my perch. This place is called Kijuju. A distant village surrounded by desert and rocks. Not much of Heaven, but I've seen places much worse. This will soon become Hell as the troops arrive. Several SUVs storm into the village square and armed men break out of their transport. I can feel their excitement and anger, all awaiting a good fight. Maybe, I should join them. But I linger on the roof, because today is not my party. I have another agenda.
Silent Romeo I am, waiting for my Juliet to appear.
A pretty mulatto with a machine gun in her hands checks the square. For a moment, she turns to me, and I see her hazel eyes and lips like a mermaid's, full and well defined. Under other circumstances I would flirt with her and bed her in half an hour. I chuckle under my breath. Sorry, pretty lady, but you're not the one I'm waiting for. She turns away, not aware of my presence.
She will meet another guy soon, all toughness and masculinity wrapped in a combat outfit. I've already met him before, when all Hell broke loose. We made an escape from an enraged crowd together and he gave me my machetes when we separated.
I shrug my shoulders to make sure that it doesn't hurt anymore. It's time to leave. I leap from roof to roof and watch what's going on in the streets of Kijuju. More SUVs arrive, a different logo on their sides, people in different uniforms inside. I notice two women among them, the lady and the maid, both dressed in white. Secret, quiet as a mouse, I follow them, because I'm a curious beast and I need to know if any of them is the one.
They lead me to some hidden place in the rocks. I think I'll make a tour of it later. I hide behind a large capsule with some freak inside and watch silently. The maid, her face hidden behind a bird mask, leaves her lady alone. I watch her skipping through some reports, checking the capsules, making notes. A scientist. Great.
The automatic door makes a buzz, opening and letting a man in, and my heart skips a beat. I freeze, cheek pressed to cool glass of the capsule. I don't even dare to breathe in his presence.
Because he senses me as well as I sense him.
They talk; he sounds like a hysterical drag queen, she purrs like a March cat. I don't hear their words, it's none of my business anyway. I watch the man, watch his nostrils twitching as he breathes in my smell, watch his eyes glowing behind the shades.
He's a bit taller than me and more solid, or it's the trench coat he's wearing that makes him look so. "Handsome" is not an appropriate word to describe him. Masculine, yes. Of high breeding, it's writ large on his face. But not handsome.
Looking at him, I can't help but remember father and Vergil… I'm almost paralyzed by him, like a rabbit in front of a snake.
He stops talking suddenly and moves to the capsule, a hand on his holster. I grip the hilts of my machetes unconsciously. At this moment I realize that I don't want to fight him.
"Who's there?" he growls, and my knees suddenly go weak at the sound. No more hysterics, the drag queen is gone. I can feel danger in the air. He is gonna kill me. In some perverted way this thought excites me.
Somehow, I manage to escape before he finds me in my poor shelter and kicks my brains out. When I leave, I catch a glimpse of him kissing the woman in white.
It is February the Fourteenth, and I feel strange, act strange like I am not myself anymore. It must be the fucking heat. I can't stand it.
Lying on my back and staring in the blue, blue sky, I try to collect my thoughts, though the heat does not favor the process. Not long ago I included one more rule in my code of survival: "No more guys in my bed!". Painful memories, sad experience et cetera, et cetera. Enough.
Maybe, I can make an exception for him…
I rub my crotch absent-mindedly as I recall his image in my mind. He's not human, it's obvious. Another half-breed, probably, but I am not sure.
I wish he kissed me instead of that bitch…
The mere thought of us kissing makes me hard. As I imagine him fondling me, touching me, I unzip the fly of my jeans and pull them down, together with my briefs, enough to take little Dante out. Nobody can see me here. And I need to… relieve my tension.
I wrap my fingers around my erection and slowly stroke it, growling quietly. They say, I'm rather vocal during such private moments, and I try to keep quiet, as the tension in my loins keeps growing. I… I bite my lips and moan, moving my hand faster.
If only it was his hand stroking me…
Just look how pathetic I am.
Jerking off at the image of a man I've seen for the first time in my entire life, isn't it sad? Devil in love is a sorry creature, and I am in love, dangerously, crazy in love. I really am.
I fist and stroke myself faster now, steady motion sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. It makes me arch my back and whine like a cat on heat. The sensation is flooding me, overwhelming me, and I feel like I'm gonna burst from inside. I close my eyes.
I don't even know his name…
This is beyond Heaven, Hell or ecstasy. Dozens of images in my head switching quickly, a steady beat in my ears, there's nothing, nothing but me caught in my personal universe with my personal god…
It must be the fucking heat…
I'm still feeling numb after my mind-blowing orgasm. Sent back down the evolution ladder, trying to catch my breath again.
A small part of my brain, which is still able to think, detects something approaching me from above. With my eyes still closed, I grab one of the machetes and thrust it forward. Some thick and hot liquid sprinkles on my face.
Like cum...
I open my eyes and see a giant mosquito-like creature impaled on the blade. I observe it thoughtfully while licking semen off my hand. It tastes salty. Then I swing my hand and send the mosquito flying off the blade. It smashes against the rock and leaves a big wet spot on the stone. I chuckle. The beast must have noticed me writhing on the ground and decided that I was dying.
Now I know what I'm gonna do. I'll find that man and who knows, maybe I'll be lucky enough not to get head shot before I say that I love him?
My actions may seem illogic. Who will look for a total stranger just to say you love him? A complete idiot. Or me. So, you may make a wrong conclusion that I am idiot. Whatever.
The truth is that I never plan ahead. I just act. Maybe, that's why I'm still alive and, what is more important, sane. My bro was in planning and scheming - now look where it got him.
But I'm starting to miss the point.
I spend the rest of the day, tracing my beloved. He has already forgotten about me, I bet, but I am a stubborn bastard, as Vergil used to call me. I will not give in so easily.
My love, shall I sing the body and blood of yours? I would give you my heart and soul as your valentine, if you asked.
It's already dusk when I find him. Good guys and bad guys meet for a final showdown, and I am a silent witness of their duello. The scenery – a crater of the volcano – is classic, too. A stab of pain comes through my heart: my beloved in his tattered trench coat, his body is covered with burns, the shades are gone, and I can see his eyes. Beautiful, inhuman eyes, colored of liquid gold. I look at his opponents, the SWAT guy and the mulatto girl. Did they use Molotov cocktail against him? Tsk, tsk, tsk, how unfair!
The SWAT guy: "It's over, Wesker!"
Wesker, I repeat under my breath. I like this name.
But I've almost missed the culmination.
A shot from a grenade launcher – A GODDAMN GRENADE LAUNCHER! – hits him right in the chest. A sudden look of pain and disbelief on his face – and I watch my love falling into the crater.
I have a déjà vu.
But before I realize what I am doing, I dive headfirst into the crater. I dive for him.
Sulfuric fumes and unbearable heat, it reminds me of falling to Hell. For a moment I think that it would be great to catch him and fall together into lava, melt into one whole and be happy like Gollum and his Precious. Really funny, Dante, how did you come up with that?
In a moment I grab his hand and pull him closer to me.
"Hello, sunshine", I purr in his ear, but he hardly can hear me. Half-conscious, choking, wounded, covered with gore - a sorry sight. I hold him tightly and let myself, ah, release a brake.
I did it thousand times before, but it always hurts when wings shoot up from my back and my body covers with scales. I manage not to drop my precious burden when I change. Laughing like a lunatic, I dash out of the crater like a bat out of hell, literally, and gain height with powerful flaps of my wings. This will become a local legend, I'm sure: Devil himself went for a sinner's soul and took it to the Underworld.
He stirs softly in my embrace, nuzzles up my neck like a blind kitten, as I fly away, leaving Kijuju and its people far behind. If he were a human, he would be already dead. But he is still alive, and I must hurry.
What shall I do now, when he is with me?
I have no idea.
******
A year later…
It's Valentine's Day again, and I hurry home, maneuvering among the people and slipping on the ice-covered pavement, careful not to drop a plastic bag I'm carrying. Nothing special, just some delicacies for dinner and a bottle of wine. Tonight I'm gonna celebrate a little anniversary.
I live in my old office since I came back from Africa. It seemed to be the more convenient option from all I had. An old friend helped me to settle in properly. She drops on me from time to time and stays to look after "the patient" when I need to leave on business. She also helped me to find a good surgeon to take care of him.
I find a message from her on my desk – a box of heart-shaped mint chocolates and a sweet note with her best wishes "to the Happy Couple", signed with a lip-print. I will phone her later.
First of all, I check on him. My beloved sleeps most time of the day, and this is what he's doing now – napping in the armchair close to the window in my… our bedroom. Sometimes I wake him up to change the bandages and feed him. His face is hidden behind the bandages, which I'm going to remove today. I'm dying to see his face now, as it healed completely. It will be my valentine to myself.
While I cook, I hum "Turbo Lover" under my breath. Romance is in the air. I definitely like Valentine's Day.
A glass of wine in one hand and a pair scissors in the other, I position myself on the armrest next to him and carefully, very carefully start to cut off the bandages. He is awake already, watching me through his lashes, eyes gleaming. When I'm done with it, I throw the scissors away and they lodge deep in the opposite wall. I remove the bandages completely and let out a deep sigh.
Smooth pale skin, thin lips and cattish eyes… Did I say he's not handsome? Forget it. I was lying.
Slowly I trace my fingers along his cheek, then lean over and nip his ear gently – the most intimate caress I'm able to give him now. After all, we are not lovers yet. Not even close friends.
"What's this for?" he whispers in a hoarse voice, and I smile and purr in his ear:
"Happy Valentine's Day"
END